


saudade

by wisdom_walks_alone



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Amnesiac Dick Grayson, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Brotherly Love, Coming Out, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne-centric, Dick Grayson is Okay at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt Damian Wayne, damian just misses his brother, damians goin through it rn, i hate the ric storyline when will it end, just some casual talk over tea(rs), kind of, yoink! my canon now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdom_walks_alone/pseuds/wisdom_walks_alone
Summary: saudade/sou·dädə/n.a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.--"Do you wanna come in?"He wants to say no. But there's a pang in his chest, a desperate ache for someone who no longer exists, and he finds himself saying yes.In which there's only one person that Damian would want to go to for comfort.previously titled "maybe someday i'll come back to you"
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne (mentioned), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 328





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i hate what they're doing with the ric thing and how they've sidelined damian from it considering how important dick is to him so i wrote this.

The key feels familiar in Damian's hand, familiar like the pattern on the carpet and the musty smell of the hallway. He stares at it, feels it between his fingers and fidgets with it. His grip tightens as he feels his expression sour. If he wanted to, he could put the key in the doorknob, turn it, hear the lock click and push the door open. It would be so easy.

But he can't do that. Damian knows this, so he doesn't. Instead, he pockets the key, and he lifts his hand to knock. But all of his usual confidence and self-assuredness suddenly evaporates, and he hesitates, staring up at the numbers on the door and catching his lip between his teeth. Dropping his hand, Damian steps back to lean against the wall and lets himself slide to the floor, still staring up at the numbers on the apartment door.

This was a stupid idea, he tells himself. He shouldn't have come here.

Just as he's about to get up and leave, the door swings open. "Can I help you?" asks his brother. Except it's not his brother, Damian has to remind himself. His brother is dead.

"No, no," he replies, standing up quickly and dusting himself off. "I was just leaving. Sorry to bother you."

Before he can make it more than a few steps down the hallway, Dick's voice calls after him. "Kid, wait." Damian looks back and sees the man biting his lip as if contemplating something before shaking his head in resignation. "Do you wanna come in?"

Damian stares at him and blinks, not quite processing what he just said. The man just raises an eyebrow at him and tilts his head. Well?

He wants to say no. But there's a pang in his chest, a desperate ache for someone who no longer exists, and he finds himself saying yes.

For what it's worth, the apartment hasn't changed much. There's a few pieces of clothing he doesn't recognize draped over various pieces of furniture, but it's the same mess all the same. Some things just never change, Damian supposes. 

The pictures are gone, though. Dick always kept pictures around his apartment, dozens of them. Damian has a mental catalogue of every single one and where it hung or sat framed on a shelf. All that's there now are bare walls and the ghosts of a thousand memories.

"Do you want something to drink?" Dick's voice comes from the kitchen.

"If it is not too much trouble," Damian answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Thank you for your hospitality, Richard."

"Ric is fine."

"That is duly noted, Richard."

He can hear a deep sigh from the kitchen. "I've got coffee, coke, and… You're a kid so you probably don't drink, so, uh, do you want some apple juice? Orange juice?"

Damian scoffs. "I am fifteen years old, I am not a child."

"So, a coke then?"

"Do you have tea?"

"Uh." There's some shuffling sounds as Damian imagines him rummaging through the cabinets. "Yeah. I have earl gray or chamomile—"

"Do you have jasmine?" Damian asks, biting back a little bit of hope.

"Um, I don't think…" There's some more rummaging, then a surprised, "Oh, yeah, I do have jasmine."

Something tugs at his heart as a wry smile tugs at his lips. Dick hated jasmine tea, but he always kept a box of it for Damian. He knew it was his favorite. Memories of late night post patrol drinks as Batman and Robin come to mind, Dick telling Alfred to surprise him as they began to unwind in the cave. Dick never minded what beverage he had after patrol, but Damian always had jasmine tea.

His eye catches on something laying on the arm of the couch, and he picks it up to inspect it. The hockey jersey from the game Dick took him to for his fourteenth birthday. It was the poorly named Gotham City Penguins against the Star City Icewalkers. Gotham had won eight-to-two, and Dick had insisted they get matching jerseys of the player who scored the winning goal. Damian had scoffed and turned his nose at the idea then, but now he wishes with every inch of his body that he could go back.

There's a laundry basket at his feet next to the couch, and he's about to drop the jersey into it when he sees a woman's blouse laying inside.

A woman has been staying here.

Damian internally shivers at the thought and drops the jersey into the basket.

He wanders back to the small dining table and reaches for a chair that has a jacket draped over the back. It's one of Jason's jackets, Damian registers, that Dick borrowed and evidently never returned. He pulls the chair out and sits as Richard emerges from the kitchen with two cups, setting one in front of Damian before taking a seat across from him.

"It's Damian, isn't it?" Richard starts, and Damian pretends his insides don't twist a little at that.

"Yes," he answers, sniffing his cup of tea as he brings it to his lips and takes a sip. The warmth of it pools in his chest, the familiar taste dancing on his taste buds, and for a moment he can imagine he’s ten years old again, sitting at the table in the batcave after a night of patrol. Damian has to keep himself from chasing the euphoria of it before he chugs the whole thing in one go.

Richard takes a sip of his own drink. "So, what brings you here, Damian?" he asks, but he looks like he already knows the answer.

"I…" Damian licks his lip and bites down on it as he struggles with his words, blinking hard. He'd avoided voicing his feelings on the matter, had avoided the subject altogether for the last few months. He hadn't talked about it with anyone, not Father, not Tim or Barbara, not even Alfred. He hadn't even allowed himself much time to think about it as he spent countless nights in the cave training, trying to escape from his own thoughts. "I—I just miss him, I suppose." Richard just makes a humming noise.

"I'm sorry, and I know you've probably heard that a million times, but that's really all I can say." He looks at Damian sympathetically, but Damian looks away to stare into his drink. "I know it must be hard, and that it really sucks, but I need you to know that I'm not—"

"I am well aware that my brother died that night," Damian interrupts, his grip on his cup tightening. He takes a second to concentrate on his breathing, then lets the warmth of the cup on his hands ground him as he finally looks up.

The man in front of him doesn't look like Dick, not really. His hair is still short from when it had been shaved, which gives a perfect view of the ugly scar above his ear, and he carries himself in a way that Damian’s never seen with his brother, not even when undercover. But he's looking at Damian with the same kind, patient eyes that he knows so well, and Damian bursts into tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ric isn't sure why he invited the kid in. As soon as the offer had come out of his mouth Ric knew it was a mistake. Or, at least, he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [darlinglissa](https://darlinglissa.tumblr.com) for betaing :o u a real one love ilu

Ric isn't sure why he invited the kid in. Maybe it was how sad and dejected he looked, the way he seemed already so resigned. Maybe it was the way he hadn't barged in here insisting that he remember memories he doesn’t have and that he be someone he’s not. Maybe it was the fact that he was about to leave.

Whatever the reason was he’d done it. He didn't mean to, he’d just blurted it out. Something just told him he couldn't let the kid go. As soon as the offer had come out of his mouth Ric knew it was a mistake. Or, at least, he thought it would be.

This time is different, Ric can feel it. He’d expected another desperate “family” member begging him to come home to a place he doesn’t remember ever being to. For tears and pleas and mentions of moments he doesn’t recall in the hopes that there’s one that he will. But the kid just looked at him like a kicked puppy and tried to run away.

He couldn’t just kick a puppy to the curb.

The kid—Damian, if he remembered correctly—had defied all of Ric’s expectations. He was quiet and didn’t make any attempt at conversation, didn’t make any move to initiate the dance he’s done countless times with Bruce and Barbara. And for the first time since waking up in this mess Ric feels bad—really _bad_ , not just the obligatory pity.

And now, fuck, now the kid was _crying_. It’s not like Ric hasn’t dealt with crying before, Barbara had cried plenty. But this is different, somehow.

“Shit, hey, kid, I—”

“Fuck, fuck,” Damian swears breathily, the sweatshirt sleeves that are too long for his arms covering the heels of his hands as he digs them into his eyes. He hunches into himself, his chair skidding back a few inches, still cursing and trying desperately to reign in his sobs. “Fuck, I—I’m sorry, I should go.”

He stands up abruptly and swiftly starts toward the door, ducking his head, but Ric reaches out and catches him by the arm. "Hey, shit, kid, wait a minute, just… Don't—don't go." Damian stares at him, that kicked puppy look mixing with deer in headlights, tears still prickling at his eyelashes. Ric doesn't take his hand away, just stares back pleadingly.

He's not sure why, but he just can't stand to let the kid leave in tears.

Damian stares at him for a long time, green eyes scrutinizing him, all the hurt written as plain as day on his face. When he finally speaks it’s sharp, barely above a whisper. “Why shouldn’t I?”

The question stumps him, it packs a punch he wasn’t expecting, and Ric is left with his mouth hanging open looking for words that don't come. “Look,” he finally manages to get out, “I just want to talk. You were there when I woke up, weren’t you? So you must’ve been important to me, right?”

The words feel wrong on his tongue, but they're all he could come up with to try and get the kid to stay, his efforts to separate himself from _that_ guy be damned.

It must have been the wrong thing to say, though, because anger flares in the kid’s face, mouth contorting in a sneer. “You’re not him,” he spats, eyes like ice. “You’ll _never_ be him, so you can stop trying.”

Ric doesn’t know what to say to that. Shocked, he lets go of Damian’s arm and slumps back in his chair. And that’s when it hits him that this is the first person who doesn’t expect him to be Dick Grayson, doesn’t want him to try to be. He laughs at the irony of it, which clearly startles Damian. “You're right,” Ric says, “I’m not him. And I don't want to be him. I don't know if I’ll ever be him again, I don't think he’s here anymore.” He taps himself on the head. “But you look like you need to talk. To him or about him, whatever you need to get off your chest, and I’m offering you a chance to do that in one way or another. So if you wanna sit back down and talk about it or get the hell out of here, that’s up to you, and it doesn't matter much to me either way.”

That's kind of a lie; he'll feel guilty as hell if the kid leaves now, leaves angry, but it doesn't look like he needs to worry about that as the kid sighs and slumps back into his seat. He looks tired.

“It’s stupid,” he says quietly, leaning forward on the table and rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s pathetic. I just…I miss him _so much_. Not that it matters to you, but Grayson— _Dick_ was my most trusted confidant. There has been…a lot on my mind, recently. There is a lot I wish I could tell him.” 

This kid just looks so lost and alone, and Ric’s heart _aches_ for him. Ric doesn't know how to say that _it does matter to me, kid, just not in the same way it would matter to_ him.

The kid looks like he’s about to break down again, and for the first time Ric wishes for all the world that he could be Dick Grayson.

Instead, he settles for something else. “Look, kid, it’s not stupid and…and it’s not pathetic. It’s normal and understandable. You miss him, and…he was obviously important to you.” He sighs, runs a hand over his face roughly. “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and try to be anything close to what he was to you. But I’m offering you something else.”

Damian smiles ruefully. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Ric smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging. “Well, why don't you start with what brought you here? Did anything happen or…were you just missing him?”

Damian ducks his head, and Ric thinks there’s something like a blush painting his cheeks. “Yes, well, that actually _is_ stupid.”

“Come on, kid.”

“It is _trivial_ ,” Damian corrects. “It’s stupid that something like this is what brought me here.”

“Try me.”

Damian sucks in a breath and releases it through his nose, closing his eyes. “I kissed my best friend yesterday.”

Ric has to laugh out loud at that. “What, so you think just because you dress up in spandex at night and punch criminals you’re not allowed to have normal teenager problems? Those bat-freaks really did a number on you, huh.” Damian just scoffs.

“It’s trivial. It’s insignificant. In the grand scheme of things—”

“You’re allowed to be a teenager, dude. No matter what freaky night job you might have, you’re allowed to have feelings. Man, has no one really told you that? That’s—”

“Dick would have.”

And Ric stops in his tracks.

Damian’s gaze shifts down to his lap. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet for a minute. Damian fidgets in his seat, and Ric tries to think of what to say next.

“Well…” He finally breaks the silence. “What happened after you kissed your friend? How did she react?”

Damian laughs sadly, humorlessly. Ric just tilts his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around for his reaction.”

_Oh._

“Oh, shit, kid, this is something Dick would’ve known about isn't it, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Damian shakes his head, “he didn’t—I mean, he knew Jon was my best friend, but he didn’t _know_ —”

“Oh, kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Does anyone else…?”

The kid lets out a strangled sound. “I wanted him to be the first one I told.”

“I am so sorry, kid.”

“I know you are.”

It’s quiet again. The kid cries softly, and Ric waits for him to get a hold of himself again. “So you kissed your best friend,” he reiterates. “And you didn’t stay for his reaction. Is there anything that he’s done that makes you think he’d react badly?”

“No,” Damian answers instantly. “He wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“So what’s the worst that could happen?” Damian looks at him and gives him a look that begs him to understand. Ric huffs out a laugh. “You’re afraid of rejection.”

The kid looks away quickly, a scoff on his lips. 

“Everyone gets scared of rejection, kid. That’s normal.” Damian still won’t look at him. “I get it. You’re afraid of what this means for your friendship. You’re afraid things’ll be weird.”

Damian nods slowly. “Yes, to all of that, but…I am also afraid of what would happen if…if he…”

“If he reciprocates,” Ric finishes. Damian nods again, finally looking back up at him.

“I’ve never been in a relationship before,” he admits. “I think I am the worst person you could be in a relationship with.”

Ric’s heart stutters a little at that. “Listen, kid, everyone deserves to be happy. Don't let what you think of yourself get in the way of that.”

The kid tucks into himself again, rubbing his arm. “Jon is too good for me. I would just corrupt him.”

“Would Jon say that?”

“ _No_ —”

“Well there you go.” Ric grins at him. “Talk to him. If he’s as great as you say he is I’m sure only good things can come from it.”

Slowly, Damian nods. “Yes. You are right.” He looks up. “Thank you.” And Ric can tell he means it.

“Anytime,” Ric replies, and maybe he means it, too. He gives the kid a small smile, and he’s pleased when it’s returned.

“I should…I should get going.” Damian stands and pushes in his chair. He stops, as if suddenly remembering something. “You might want this back,” he says, digging something out of his pocket and holding it out. It’s a key.

Before he can think about it too much, Ric makes a decision. “Keep it,” he says easily. And then, before he can think too hard again, “I meant it when I said anytime.”

Damian doesn’t try to hide his surprise, just stares at Ric for a long moment before sticking the key back in his pocket. “Thank you,” he says softly. “Thank you, Ric.”

Ric smiles, nods genially. “Anytime, kid.” And as the kid makes his way to the door, Ric makes one more split second decision. “And kid?” Damian turns around in the doorway. “Call me Dick.”

The kid looks startled for a second, but then he smiles a little, huffs out a little laugh. He says one last thing before he turns around and leaves. “Thanks, Dick.”

  
When Damian leaves, he feels lighter. As if all the weight he’s been carrying around has finally dissipated. He still misses Dick, the _real_ Dick, but this isn’t so bad. It’s not the same, but it’s not completely different, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is NOT canon compliant. this is supposed to be self indulgent. in this fic ric still has his apartment and jon is not aged up. in fact, jon is only a year younger than damian. why? because it's my canon now.
> 
> that said thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. comments and feedback are always welcome! feel free to pop on over to [tumblr](https://wisdom-walks-alone.tumblr.com) and say hi too!


End file.
